An Unexpected Night
by JessieBess
Summary: One night his chore of driving Violet and Isobel home turns into something far different and much better than the new Downton chauffeur imagined it would.


**A/N: I wanted to publish something a bit more lighthearted from The Betrayal. When I wrote Downton Remembered I had a lot of flashbacks/scenes that I didn't end up using. I've combined two of those here. Hope you enjoy it.**

In the short time he had been at Downton Tom found he spent countless hours of his time waiting. Waiting by the motor car while her ladyship or her daughters shopped although he thought browsed might be a more appropriate term for he had never known that women could take so much time in shops and yet return to the motor car with so little, if any, purchases. Waiting by the motor car while his Lordship attended one of his meetings or regiment dinners. Although he knew the dinner was with his Lordship's former army pals Tom had cringed when his Lordship had once come out of the house unexpectedly dressed in the military uniform of his former brigade. Waiting by the platform at the railway station for one of the Crawleys or their guests to arrive from London.

Even most of the time he spent inside the grand house was time spent waiting as he was now sitting in the servants hall waiting to take old lady Grantham home. Although he used his time waiting by the motor car reading a newspaper or a book, waiting here in the Abbey meant he could enjoy a cup of tea and usually biscuits or a warm scone.

"Why doesn't Lady Crawley live here?" he asked to no one in particular although Bates, Anna, and O'brien were also sitting around the oversized wooden table. Like him, the three were also sipping tea and waiting for word from Carson that the family had retired for the evening. For Bates, Anna, and O'brien their work day would not be finished until they had helped the family prepare for bed. Tom was dumbfounded that adults would need help getting into their pajamas but he was smart enough not to voice his opinion on the matter.

It was O'brien who answered in her usual snippy way. "It's the Dowager Countess not Lady Crawley. If you're going to work here you need to learn the proper terms of address."

It took a great deal of effort on Tom's part not to roll his eyes in annoyance at the pinch faced woman who never seemed to have a good day or a kind word for anyone. Even when the occasion didn't call for it she was always quick with a snide or critical remark. He would admit he wasn't knowledgeable on the English aristocracy but it was O'brien's tone and demeanor that was just always so disagreeable.

"When your husband the Earl dies and your son becomes the new Earl you then become the Dowager Countess" Anna soothingly chimed in. Tom wasn't surprised it was kind Anna that would actually explain it to him. "And it would be Lady Gratham not Lady Crawley."

Before Tom could comment, Thomas stomped into the room and announced that the Dowager was ready to leave signaling to Tom that it was time for him to finish his work for the day.

As he did four or five nights a week, Tom was driving the Dowager home after dining with the family at the Abbey. He had probably driven old lady Grantham more than anyone else in the family usually taking her back and forth from the Dowager house to the Abbey but on a couple of occasions driving her to the homes of friends for luncheon or tea.

As he brought the motor car to the front of the house he still wondered why she just didn't live here especially since she spent so much time here. He glanced at the enormous house, a house he would describe in his letters home as being a palace, so he knew it was certainly large enough to accommodate her. She could probably have her own wing of twenty rooms!

Tonight Mrs. Crawley was also his passenger. She didn't attend dinner at the abbey as much as the Dowager nor had he driven her anywhere other than to and from her house and the abbey.

Usually the two women would talk on the short drive from the abbey to Mrs. Crawley's house but tonight both were silent. Tom glanced in the rear view mirror and sensed there was some tension tonight between the two women who sat as far as possible from each other on the back seat. It wouldn't be the first time the two had had words, sometimes right here in the motor car.

They, like the rest of his passengers, seemed to forget that Tom could hear every word they spoke. It was as if he was a part of the motor car like the steering wheel or the gearshift and not a human being. Tom was amazed at some of the things he had heard while driving but it had given him an insight into his new employers.

His Lordship was more likely to talk if it was a longer journey like to York or when returning from his meetings or dinners where liquor had obviously been served. Her Ladyship was more reserved and after the pleasantries of "good morning" or "lovely day today" she rode in silence unless accompanied by her husband or daughters.

The two older daughters were what he expected of daughters of privilege. Haughty. Vain. Snobbish. Somedays they didn't acknowledge his presence with even a "good morning." Both seemed as if their faces would crack if they smiled at him while he helped them into or out of the motor car. But the youngest daughter … Lady Sybil …. she was nothing like them. She …

"Have you settled in Branson?"

Startled, Tom looked up into the rear view mirror at his passengers. Mrs. Crawley sat with a smile on her face and her eyes focused on his reflection in the mirror waiting for his response while the Dowager had turned to look at her companion with a startled look that matched Tom's.

"I have maam" he replied thinking that there was really no other response he could give her.

"Where in Ireland are you from?" Mrs. Crawley continued clearly to the annoyance of the Dowager.

"Dublin"

"Is this the first time you've lived away from Dublin?"

"No ma'am. I was a chauffeur for a woman who lived in Drogheda but that was close enough to Dublin that I could visit on my day off."

"It must be hard to be so far from home."

"Aye" Tom replied. "My mam and sisters write but it's not the same as seeing or talking to them."

"Do you come from a large family?"

"I have three sisters and three brothers."

"Oh my! Your mother must have had her hands full" Isobel cheerfully remarked. "Where are you in this line up?"

"I'm the third oldest."

"Are any of them-"

"Really Isobel" the Dowager sharply cut in causing Mrs. Crawley to whip around to face her. "I think Branson needs to concentrate on the road rather than be interrogated by you."

"I guess you think it's beneath me to talk to the chauffeur" Isobel snapped.

"No I would never think it beneath **you** " the Dowager sharply replied.

Any further conversation was ended by their arrival at Crawley House. Tom stopped the motor car and walked around to the passenger door to help Mrs. Crawley out of the car.

"I hope it doesn't get too lonely for you here Branson" sounding quite motherly Mrs. Crawley continued as she exited the motor car. It had probably been to annoy the Dowager more than anything else Tom thought yet he was touched that she had inquired about his family as no one else had and he smiled broadly as he helped her out of the motor car.

It was quite a contrast to his usually stoic demeanor and Isabel noted how his smile lit up his handsome face. Not for the first time Isabel wondered why his lordship had hired this young handsome Irishman especially since he would be chauffeuring the three young ladies of the house around.

The Dowager loudly sighed and then grumbled "it's getting rather late."

Tom doffed his hat at Mrs. Crawley before walking around the front of the motor car to the driver's seat. Settling himself in, he stole a glance in the rear view mirror at his remaining passenger whose head was turned away from Crawley house, staring out the passenger window on the opposite side.

To Tom's surprise he had barely pulled away from Crawley House when the Dowager stated "Mrs. Crawley can be a bit nosy Branson. You musn't be offended."

"Of course not milady."

"Quite irritating actually with all her questions and comments as if …" the old lady suddenly went quiet as if she realized just who was in the motor car with her.

They drove on in silence through the village.

It was the Dowager who finally broke the silence "so this your first time living in England?"

"Yes ma'am" he replied.

"My late husband and I used to visit Ireland. His cousin had an estate up near" she paused as if trying to recall the town. "It was somewhere with good salmon fishing."

"Ireland is known for her great salmon" Tom replied with pride.

"Not exactly the first thing I think of when I think of Ireland" the Dowager responded.

"Well the lamb is also very good. Maybe you were thinking of that. And then of course there's the Guinness and the whiskey."

She took a deep breath. "I assure you Branson I was not thinking of the Guinness and whiskey. And I hope you aren't either especially if you're driving me around."

"Of course not milady."

"You don't have a bottle of some sort up there do you?"

He hadn't been offended by Mrs. Crawley but he was becoming offended by the Dowager.

"No … you do seem like a very good driver especially for someone so young. Where did you learn to drive?"

"When I was a boy I'd drive the tractor on my grandfather's farm and then just … sorta graduated to motor cars."

"Well I must say you are quite an improvement over Taylor. He left to run a tea shop. Can you imagine that?"

"No. If I can be honest I can't imagine leaving motor cars for a tea shop."

He turned the motor car through the opening of the tall brick wall that surrounded the Dowager House. Stopping the motor car directly in front of the steps leading to the mansion's front door, he hurried around to the passenger door.

"It was near Athlone" she said as he helped her out of the motor car.

"Where we went to visit" she continued by way of explanation. "Some dreary drafty old house. Never could get warm there even in summer. But the salmon was delicious."

"Nothing as good as a freshly caught Irish salmon" Tom replied. Then cheerfully added "with a glass of Guinness."

The Dowager threw him one of those looks of hers, the kind that usually stopped someone cold.

"Or so I've been told" he added broadly grinning.

He hopped back into the car laughing to himself. He knew the Dowager had a way of intimidating most everyone she met including her own son and while he didn't want to get on her bad side he wasn't easily intimidated. He was after all the son of Nuala Branson and in a match between the Dowager and his mother he wasn't sure the Dowager would win.

Having grown up in the city, especially one as dirty and smoke filled as Dublin, he wasn't use to the majestic sight of the moon and the stars that so filled the Yorkshire sky. Tonight was one of those nights where the cloudless sky was filled with what seemed like a million twinkling stars surrounding a crescent shaped moon. He stopped the car on the gravel path leading to the Abbey thinking he'd take a few minutes to admire the sight above him. He took off his hat and jacket and threw them on the seat as he exited the motor car.

Leaning up against the bonnet he tilted his head back to look at the sky. No matter which way he looked he saw an endless pattern of stars with some seeming bigger and some seeming brighter but all shimmering against the blackness of the sky.

"It's lovely isn't it" her soft husky voice broke the stillness of the night.

The unexpected sound of her voice startled Tom. It wasn't just that he had thought he was alone in this field so late at night but that it was _**her**_ voice.

"Milady" he finally managed to utter. "What … what are you doing here?" In his own mind he thought he sounded like a fool.

"Doing what you're doing Branson gazing at the stars" she said as if it was the most natural thing in the world to be standing here at midnight. "Although I must admit I hadn't pegged you as a stargazer."

He watched as she moved to stand beside him. Gone was the always impeccably dressed daughter of an earl. The young woman standing beside him could have been one of his sisters for she was wearing a plain dark skirt and blouse with a shawl draped over her shoulders to ward off the cool night air. Her dark hair which was always been covered by a hat was in a loose braid hanging down her back.

"So that's why you're out here tonight … to look at the stars?" he mumbled.

She laughed. "You seem so surprised Branson."

"It's just that it's … it's … well it's just you've surprised me."

"I like to-" Whatever she was going to say was lost with the sight of a falling star. "A falling star! You must make a wish!"

He could see she had closed her eyes.

"I wish for a glass of Guinness."

She turned to look at him. "You're not supposed to say your wish out loud."

"I didn't know there were rules for when you-"

"A glass of Guinness? Really? You don't wish for things that you can make happen."

He had to chuckle at how serious she sounded. "But I'd like a Guinness."

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "If we were in the desert or maybe stranded on an island that would be a good wish. But here you can just walk to the Grantham Arms and order a Guinness … well if it were open that is."

"So what did you wish for?"

"I told you Branson you can't say out loud your wish."

"So are there any more rules on stargazing I should be aware of?"

Later as he sat alone in his cottage he thought this was one of the best nights of his life. There was something about her. They had stood there talking as if it was the most natural thing in the world. _She's too far above you_ he reminded himself. But he didn't really believe in that stuff. The question was did she?


End file.
